


In Between

by Devcon03



Series: Haven, Void and Beyond [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage (Other), Collars, Dom/sub, Double Penetration (valve and port), Established Relationship, Genital Piercing, Light BDSM, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Spark-play, Sticky Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devcon03/pseuds/Devcon03
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be this good...





	

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE read the warnings, I can't stress this enough. The fic WILL squick you if you don't know what you are getting into.

_It wasn’t supposed to be this good..._

The thought burns through Devcon’s processor as as he carefully breaches Starscream’s slick port. They are enveloped in total darkness; the room just as black as the void encircling the space port. Starscream clings to Devcon, his optics shuttered tightly, his proximity sensors shut down. Silence, thick and loaded, surrounds them, enhancing the alluring illusion of cold detachment. The Seeker moans loudly. He’s blinded trice over, straining beautifully under the demand to submit completely, the urge increasing for each moment that passes. 

Devcon nuzzles the trembling helm, his intakes unnaturally loud in the silence. There’s a sliver of fear mingling with the throbbing knot of lust in his mate’s core. The hunter caresses him through the bond, pushing softly against the firewalls, then roams a hand over the curved cockpit, a soothing gesture. Starscream yields with a desperate keen, pushing into the touch, wings fanning back and forth. 

There’s condensation forming all over the Decepticon’s smooth frame and above else, a hungry quality to his breathy, laboured moans. Devcon growls in appreciation. He knows all of Starscream’s needs and desires, his CPU completely tuned into the delicious task of bringing his mate closer to the processor-shattering ecstasy the Seeker craves. The heady mix of heat, pleasure and pain draws yet another keen of his precious captive, and Starscream’s helm lolls backwards, bumping into Devcon’s shoulders in a blissful, faint shudder. 

Devcon shudders too, his knees gliding against the cool, silky sheets. It’s pure torture to fight his own need to bury himself as hard and swift as possible, but that’s out of the question. Inch after inch, he sinks deeper in, yet he never changes the languid pace, giving his mate much needed time to adjust. Starscream’s reactions, the tight fit and the rising charge makes his vents whine as they try to keep him from overheating. There’s an answering whine from Starscream, and Devcon kisses the strong neck, raking his denta over delicate cables. 

Starscream respond is sweeter than high-grade, he arches and gasps, latches his claws onto Devcon’s broad shoulders. For an everlasting moment Starscream hangs on for dear life as his internals tightens, gripping the hunter’s spike painfully hard. To Devcon, his pleasure seems to grow like a red, hot sun on the verge of extinction, and the sleek frame writhes helplessly. The hunter hisses, barely holding himself back. He fights his base coding, controlling the mindless urge to slam inside. Self-control is all that matters, to keep the slow pace, and now _he’s_ the one clinging.

The Seeker snarls and shifts, displeased by the amount of self discipline being held against him, and tries to impale himself on the thick spike. Restricted he can’t do much more than twist helplessly in the dark, and his port flexes repeatedly. Devcon stops moving altogether, relaxes and holds perfectly still. Starscream shakes his helm in protest, but Devcon doesn’t give in. Even though Starscream’s scratches him impatiently, he keeps his mate pinned in place, their breathless gasps filling the air.

In the end it pays to hold back. 

Starscream surrenders with a groan, and slumps tiredly back against Devcon’s chassis. The hunter hums and nips his vents gently. It’s important, no – it’s _vital_ , to dominate the Air Commander, else he’ll be damaged. Even though Starscream likes it rough, there’s no place for pain between them, and the hunter aims for pleasure alone.

”You’re holding back”, Starscream states quietly. There’s a slight note of gratitude in his ragged vocals. Elegant hands gingerly touches his shoulders, soothing the scratches they’ve left in the wake of passion. Devcon grunts, and strokes his mate’s cockpit with heated fingertips, pressing into the seams, rubbing hard. The Seeker jolts and arches, then falls back against Devcon, trembling all over. He moans loudly, splaying his thighs even further apart in a blatant invitation. 

For a moment anticipation hangs thick in the air, tension almost palpable. Starscream’s gasping intakes seem unnaturally loud in the total darkness. The smell of the lubricant slowly seeping down his thighs is downright intoxicating, and the hunter growls, vocals soft as they utter a command.

”Mmmm… If you want more, then you better offline your optics, shuttering them isn’t enough. I want you only able to _feel_ , nothing else will do.”

Starscream nods, then obeys quickly, doing his utmost to please the hunter. A nano-klik later he bucks in Devcon’s grip as a hand fondles his valve roughly, pinching the outer node fondly, smearing hot lubricant all over the sensitive plating. Devcon nudges the tiny ring, not quite pulling, just letting Starscream feel owned. He smiles, breathing a sultry purr as the Seeker shivers helplessly. He then dips the tip of a silvery finger into the little valve. It’s almost impossible to go beyond the first silvery ridge, but there’s plenty of lubricant, and he forces it deeper still, murmuring dirty, little things into his mate’s audios. 

Starscream tenses and gasps, then thrashes wildly in his grip. The hunter cycles a deep intake, nodding to himself - it’s now or never. With a strong arm around Starscream's cockpit, holding tight, he snaps his hips just once, adding pleasure and sweetest pain in one slow, delicious move. He grinds as deep as possible, forcing the Seeker to take him fully. Starscream howls, coming swiftly and hard. 

”Oh- … _oh!_ P-Primus, Autobot!”

There are many things in the ’verse worthy to kill and die for, Devcon muses as he gently restricts his mate. Starscream’s voice, high pitched and desperate, is one of them. The way his mate trembles, his internals pulsing and tightening, draws a rumbling groan from him, weakening his self-control. He shivers and kisses a black vent, gently removing his finger. He rubs the little valve’s slick rim thoroughly, teasing the outer node until Starscream starts squirming in his lap again. He takes his time, making himself deaf for the Seeker’s ragged, begging moans and urging hands, marking him beautifully.

It would be a lie to say that he is left unaffected by Starscream’s pleading snarls. The way his mate orders him to go faster - _to fuck him already!_ , makes him tense and growl. The Seeker growls back, demanding more, always hungry for the rough pleasure Devcon lovemaking offers. In Devcon’s processor there’s an answering roar to that tone; something dark and mean awakening. 

A beat later he inserts two fingertips into the searing heat, scissoring and stretching, taking great care to prepare Starscream for what’s coming next. 

The Air Commander arches and whimpers. Devcon suckles and bites the strong neck, stating their roles; him as the hunter, the Seeker his eternal prey. It would be so easy to follow his base coding’s demands; it wants the Decepticon SIC, wants to taste his screams, wants to drink his sobbing moans. Yet, all Devcon does is to even out his own shaky intakes and shift slightly, leaning back a bit. The berth is soft beneath them, the sheets heavenly cold. It’s perfection made real and there’s nothing in his CPU but the taking of his mate…

The sudden rustle of sheets breaks the spell, shattering the perfect moment. 

Devcon throws his helm up, remembering the real reason to _why_ they offlined the lamps to start with - _they are not alone_. He snarls in annoyance, a sound that promises a painful death just as his head-cannon locks onto the third energy signal in the room. Danger makes the air thick. His spark flares, urging him to attack, to let the cannon light the darkness to protect his precious mate. There’s a moment of suspense as he stares balefully into the velvety darkness, his grip becoming protective and possessive both. 

Starscream's protocols follow his lead, his frame poised in conflict; to hide or fight to death. His wings droop a notch or two, distress seeping through the bond. He remains quiet, pinned even, and emits a small, embarrassed growl. Devcon turns his attention to a trembling wing, nuzzling it with a low, reassuring purr. The wing’s surface is hot to the touch, his lips cool against it. Arms tightening around the Seeker, grip soothing and dominating at the same time, he opens his part of the bond.

Wordless communication follows. 

Through the bond endless praise rises, surrounding Starscream, creating a blanket of intimacy, pulling him into it. Devcon’s spark has other things to say; it’s the hunter’s _right_ to please his mate, to protect and kill for him. It won’t have anything less than that. _This_ is for Starscream, for the sole purpose of spoiling and pampering the Seeker. For a moment, there’s nothing but boiling rage on the other side of the bond – _How dare this slime?_ , then something sneaky enters the link, and with it, a challenge.

Devcon knows what is required. He doesn’t use more than small, delicate touches, but the question moves through the link like a dart. _Permission to continue, Commander?_ It’s a part of their exquisite power-balance, deepest courtesy between equals. Nothing is to be taken lightly, nor for granted, not between two them. He smiles knowingly as his mate’s answer comes in the shape of a demanding hiss.

The moment of danger is over, and the berth dips as the pleasure-bot moves closer still. This time Starscream is ready, and relaxes against Devcon’s frame, a hand moving upwards to lazily caress his cannon with lethal claws. The hunter shifts carefully. Even in complete darkness, blinded and impaled upon his spike, Starscream still behaves like an emperor upon a throne made of Autobot. He can, if he feels insulted or disrespected, kill the owner of that third signal. Starscream isn’t late to warm up to the idea and moans, grinding back against Devcon, processor filled with dark, evil deeds, thighs shivering in excitement.

This changes the whole situation, adds a thrilling edge to it. Any embarrassment still lingering in Starscream’s processor fades quickly, replaced by something far more potent. Devcon smiles in the dark, admiring his ruthless mate. He knows what’s being processed in that wicked mind of his, and he loves it. The hunter knows it, and so does the other Cybertronian – _Starscream_ will be the one setting the limits to this encounter. Nothing will happen without his consent. Owned, marked as Devcon’s most precious possession, the black collar around his left wrist, Starscream has never been more in control. 

The implication makes Devcon's intakes come faster. 

By now, the carefully picked out pleasure-bot is close enough to touch both of them, but it is intelligence and tact Devcon asked, and paid for. The situation is loaded and can still become hostile. As decided in forehand, the pleasure-bot doesn't reach out to touch the Air Commander just yet. Instead, a small, humming sound is heard, and suddenly a gush of heavenly cold air washes over them. The hunter sighs in bliss just as Starscream moans quietly, clearly pleased. 

Mouth close enough to kiss, the pleasure-bot gently blows the stream of cold air all over Starscream, caressing without actually touching him. Whatever the pleasure-bot feels, it doesn't give off any heat, which creates the sensation of being serviced upon by a machine, and not a Cybertronian. It doesn’t matter, the bot is there for their pleasure, and it’s doing a great job already. 

Starscream’s hand reaches up to stroke his faceplates, and Devcon can’t stop himself from his usual reaction to such a touch. As the pleasure-bot kisses his mate’s heated armour with nothing but streams of cold breath, he finds himself telling the Seeker sweet things; tales of his grandeur, of his swift flight – the way he feels, and how hot he is to the touch. Small words, sometimes broken and completed through the bond, all meant to heighten his mate’s lust. 

And they _do._

Starscream’s internals tightens, clamping down on Devcon’s spike and fingers both. The Seeker throws his helm back with a low moan, and the hunter continues to finger-fuck him with long, slow strokes. He turns his helm to licks a wing, enjoying the frantic buzz against his glossa, tasting the rising charge. Leaving a wet trail behind, he finds his way to a seam and smirks, then bites down without mercy. Starscream yells, wings perking high, fluttering. Devcon suckles the delicate plating, his glossa doing bad, bad thing to the tiny wound, pulling a hoarse plea from his mate. Port filled, his valve stretched, _pinned_ , Starscream can only hang on and beg for more.

”Don’t move,” Devcon purrs, and transmits an order to his partner-in-crime.

The pleasure-bot moves again, cold air suddenly licking its way downwards. Starscream yelps, his valve growing slicker under this assault. The bot’s breath becomes a tad harder, the stream of air adding pressure against the tender plating of the Seeker’s spike. Devcon growls happily and moves his fingers faster, warm lubricant coating his hand, causing Starscream to hiss and squirm. With a grin, Devcon’s allows his fingers to glide deeper, punishing Starscream, reminding him the hard way that forgetting his place will only lead to more of the perfectly intense, pained pleasure he is addicted to. In his grip, Starscream mewls, pushing his cockpit against his grip.

Devcon imagines how it must, with Starscream fighting his dominance, hissing and writhing, thighs spread completely open… _vulnerable_. For a moment, he’s tempted to online his optics. He kills the urge immediately. No visual feeds was the deal, and he’ll honour it. He undulates his hips slowly at the thought and growls, still wishing he could see and record the view. There’s a dark kind of delight blooming in his spark as well; his mate is accepting his gift. Pleased, collared and safe, enjoying himself thoroughly. In response, the hunter revs his engines and scrapes his fingertips against the pretty cockpit, marking the Perfect Prey as his own as he congratulates himself. 

Together, they work the Air Commander into a slow, deep overload. The pleasure-bot is gifted, heeding his orders to pleasure his mate with no physical contact until ordered to do so. In between, Starscream snarls, unable to decide whether to ask for more, or beg for release. After a moment, he turns and bites Devcon’s jawline, growling impatiently. _That_ is a reason to punish him again, and so Devcon does, inserting a third finger into the tight valve. 

Starscream cries out and jerks violently. At the same time, the cold air against the elegant spike is replaced by soft intakes; a blatant teasing as the pleasure-bot's helm hovers above Starscream’s spike. Starscream bucks and whines, abdominal plating tensing, torn between surging forward, and keeping still. An aggressive, hungry snarl is heard, but the pleasure-bot knows its place, awaits further orders.

Fingers deep inside his straining mate, pushing against clusters of nodes, Devcon purrs in delight. No longer feeling the need to keep his mate’s sacred core safe, he moves that hand upwards, finding the Seeker’s mouth. He pushes a couple of fingers inside, filling that filthy mouth, stopping the litany of oaths. Starscream doesn’t protest. Through the bond the hunter feels the intense pleasure clouding the wicked processor. His mate’s vents hitch at his mental caress, and his aft presses hard against Devcon’s front. He suckles the hunter’s fingers greedily, coating them, nipping now and then, growling softly, needing more, much, _much_ more.

Devcon pulls back in one languid move. ”More?”

Starscream arches and nods, moaning around his fingers, suckling with a needy purr. Devcon leans in, curling behind him somewhat, and nuzzles the heated vent, licking teasingly. He sends a silent order to the pleasure-bot, then waits. He knows that Starscream at any moment can and _will_ put a stop to this if they don’t please him. The bot, however, understands what they dealing with. Starscream isn’t only a demanding lover – he is a high ranked member of the most feared army in every ’verse, and on top of that, a _Seeker_. He wields his pride like others handle their guns. Devcon has made it clear that certain things won’t be happening, and the drone being one of the most wanted, if not _the_ most sought after pleasure-bot in the station, follows his commands perfectly.

There is movement in the darkness again, and Starscream’s sudden, surprised gasp makes Devcon’s valve slick. He moans heatedly against his mate’s audio, kissing it as he moves slowly, fucking the Seeker’s mouth, aft and valve in a lazy manner. Then the pleasure-bot does something, exactly _what_ he’ll have to remember to ask later, but as a result, Starscream howls around his fingers and leaves a new set of fresh marks upon his shoulders. The hunter hisses, accepting the rough treatment. Later, he’ll have his own share of pleasure, forcing his mate into submission with naught but ecstasy. 

Payback always tastes sweet, specially if it’s Starscream on the receiving end of it.

They find a smooth rhythm, the pleasure-bot taking his mate’s spike deep and good – just the how the Seeker likes it – whilst Devcon stretches him properly, manipulating tender walls, pushing into sensors and soft membrane alike, preparing him for a fourth finger. Starscream’s intakes grow shallow, his thrusters gliding helplessly against the silky sheets as he takes it all. The sound of laboured intakes, and the shivering of wing-tips is reason enough to continue. 

Starscream whimpers as the fourth finger enters him slowly. A moment later, he bursts into movement, choking on Devcon’s fingers, his processor stalling. He arches and screams silently, helm rolling from side to side, desperately trying to escape the onslaught yet never once demanding it to stop. Instead, he presses his thighs to the side, opening himself further, silently begging for more as the heady mix of pleasure and pain drowns everything else out. The room fills with the ragged sound of Starscream’s intakes, on the verge of sobs, his wings fanning frantically.

Hunter and pleasure-bot both still. Devcon needs no bond to understand - the burning sensation is too much and his mate can’t take it, yet true to his being, Starscream forces himself through it, hungry as ever for the heady pleasure that will follow. As the thin red line between bliss and pain blurs, he strangles a wail, claws cutting deep into sky-blue armour, holding onto Devcon as if life itself was at stake. 

A moment later, Starscream utters a strangled moan that is soon replaced by a threatening, murderous growl. For a nano-klik everything hangs in suspense, and Devcon is sure that Starscream will leash out and kill the pleasure-bot as a reaction to the turmoil in his processor. Darkness incarnate touches him back, strengthening his sudden fear. Devcon swallows, he knows his mate, understands him all too well. He shifts, hoping he’ll be quick enough to stop him before things get out of hand, but it’s already too late. In his grip Starscream writhes violently and _snaps_. 

There’s a wet, gagging sound as Starscream pumps his hips impatiently, burying his spike into the waiting, hot mouth. The pleasure-bot adjusts quickly, suckling hard, even as deadly claws grabs the bot's helm, holding it in a death-grip. Smooth engines rumbling, the Seeker realises that there are no hands restraining him. A smug sensation moves through the bond as Starscream viciously surges forward, forcing his spike deeper still. He snorts at Devcon’s lingering fear of getting a crime scenen in their berthroom, and a sly chuckle caresses his audios. The hunter snorts and accepts defeat; _All hail Starscream, master of deception!_

The Seeker purrs, claws holding his victim just where he wants the poor fragger, wings held high and proud, tips trembling. Devcon smiles softly in the darkness, moving his free hand to caress the arched back slowly, just waiting for Starscream to realise his mistake. In the heat of the moment his mate has forgotten one little fact; if he wants to fuck the pleasure-bot's mouth, he’ll have to impale himself right back onto Devcon, again and again and again. 

_Any moment now…_

Flawless victory. Starscream stills with a low whine just as he begins to draw back. Devcon licks his audio, nibbling playfully. His mate mouths a small oath, seemingly unable to decide what to do with himself. Devcon smirks and nuzzles him, tensing sweetly.

”Better move, sweet bird,” he says with a predatory tone. ”Otherwise I might decide to do it for you, and you know what will happen then, right…?”

His rough vocals sends a thrill through the Seeker, as always. Slowly, his hand settle on a slim hip, gripping it hard, denting deliberately. It’s his mate’s choice – it always is, but Starscream demands to be taken beyond set limits and hungers for his mastery. And, as everything between them, this is a hunt. Their cores may now be linked, but they understood each other perfectly well long before sparks were involved. _This_ … is something utterly primal, stripped down to base coding only.

With the heavy weight of the hunter’s big hand upon his hip, Starscream pants loudly, grinding his spike into the bot's mouth. It doesn’t take much more than a slight curl of silvery fingers before he keens and pushes back in one go, taking the thick spike all the way. The pain is intense, it burns through every node and sensor, but the Seeker doesn’t seem to care. He moans with a hungry pitch to his vocals, desperate to have it all. He withdraws and and surges forward into the waiting, wet mouth. The pleasure-bot swallows around him, and Devcon chuckles against his audios. 

”Mmm… Such a _good_ Seeker.”

His mate is a masterpiece, a mech much more complicated than any lover he’s ever had. It’s thrilling to push Starscream’s limits while giving him free reign. Held captive between pain and pleasure, Starscream will selfishly do his utmost to pleasure himself. The hunter moves his hand from the hip, and caresses his way up until he reaches his mate’s lips. He allows Starscream to lick his fingers before pushing three of them inside, choking him. He undulates his hips, listening to the muffled yelps; there’s just something utterly delicious about stuffing the Seeker in every way possible. 

”That’s it,” he murmurs as he licks a vent. ”Take it… _all_ of it, sweet bird. You need it, don’t you?”

Starscream nods, gently suckling his fingers. The hunter’s words make his core temperature spike and he groans, desperately fucking himself senseless on Devcon’s hard spike, then drives forward into the pleasure-bot’s gifted mouth just as predicted. Devcon holds still, battling himself as he admires the knot of pulsing, raw lust that grows taut inside his mate. The Seeker takes his pleasure like a king, hard and swift, never holding back his ruthless lust. A beat later, he howls around Devcon’s fingers as the hunter meets him halfway, forcing him to take him fully. 

The pleasure-bot moves as well, pulling back to stand up at Devcon’s silent command. Starscream growls at the loss of stimuli and his claws curl, warning the bot to move any further, but then Devcon moves as well. Starscream’s sharp teeth snaps after his fingers as they slip away from his mouth and then, the hunter’s arm goes around the annoyed Seeker, keeping him trapped. Now Starscream is fully stretched, aching and needy, his elegant frame trembling on the verge of an overload. He growls in frustration and Devcon growls right back, but still Starscream holds onto the bot, his claws deadly. The hunter pulls back with a hiss, then slams repeatedly into the tiny port, his processor clear on the matter; this will continue until the Seeker gives in and releases the pleasure-bot.

No such thing happens. 

Starscream cries out and grabs Devcon’s arm, lethal claws cutting deep. There’s no way the Seeker can stop the punishment without either submitting or letting go of his prey, but he still can and _will_ fight for dominace. He is _Starscream_ , and will have no lesser mech to tame him. Pain, however, activates Devcon’s base coding. The hunter’s high, sweet as ever, comes to his aid and the savage pain becomes something to covet. He leans forward and bites Starscream’s neck, hard and ruthless, denta drawing energon. It’s brutal, he knows it, but he can’t but oblige and show the Seeker who’s in charge. If he was less of a monster, his mate would have killed him long ago, but he never was a _good_ Autobot, anyway. It’s widely known that he’s just as bad as any Decepticon, and that matters right now, in the darkness, where the smell of energon lays thick, where pain becomes pleasure and pleasure is sweetest pain.

The battle of wills isn’t over, even as the charge raises. Hips rocking, thrusting hard and fast, Devcon ignores the presence of the pleasure-bot and concentrates on his task to bring his prey down. Starscream bites the hunter’s helm, arching helplessly under the onslaught. He can’t take it anymore, he _can’t_ \- the whole of his frame is hypersensitive, but he’s stubborn as ever and won’t give in. Yet, a couple of deep, harsh thrusts later, Devcon withdraws his fingers from the little valve and slams them right back, deep and ruthlessly hard. Starscream gasps and breaks under the strain, letting go of the pleasure-bot completely. He comes sharply, rewarding Devcon with a vibrant howl as he submits.

Once he’s sure of being the one controlling the events again, Devcon slows his brutal pace somewhat, making sure to give Starscream time to come down from his high. He checks his mate through the bond, making sure he is all right. Now pliant and completely obedient, the Seeker clings to him, accepting the change of pace, welcoming it with a soft, pleased sigh. Carefully, Devcon withdraws his spike, teasing the Seeker’s abused port, sliding against it. Certain of his mate’s change of spark, he moves his hand to touch the wicked mouth again, nudging his lips in a silent command. Starscream mewls and licks his fingers happily, nipping gently, wings held high, fluttering prettily. 

Devcon nods, keeping perfectly still as he calms his vent and cocks his helm. Silently, drawn by the issued command, the pleasure-bot moves forward. This time Starscream doesn’t interfere, his fingers soothing the wounds on Devcon’s arm, his processor and spark both eager. Devcon nods, pleased, and silently communicates with the pleasure-bot, his orders clear as ice. Carefully withdrawing his fingers from the valve, he grabs the ring adorning the outer node with wet fingers, pulling gently. It glides easily, causing Starscream to moan and angle his hips. The hunger growls as Starscream lifts his aft in a blatant offering, self-control out of the picture. When nothing happens, the Seeker hisses. 

”Autobot, for frag’s sake, just _move it!_ ” 

It’s more of a whine and less than a command, but Devcon doesn’t move and the pleasure-bot stops in its track. Deadly claws curl over the Autobot’s arm again and Starssream growls desperately, but still no movement. The hunter just waits and keeps waiting until the claws aren’t scratching his armour anymore. Wings flicking in annoyance, the Seeker tries another tactic; where claws earlier cut, now soft lips kisses slowly, lovingly even. The hunter moulds his frame after his mate, dipping one finger into the little valve. 

”See? Not so hard, is it? Now, where were we…?” 

Whatever Starscream means to answer becomes a strangled moan as Devcon sinks into him with a lazy, shallow movement. He withdraws slowly and thrusts back immediately, entering the Seeker swiftly, burying himself to the hilt inside the tiny port. Starscream whimpers, thighs trembling, but his internals are relaxed enough and the hunter nods to himself. It’s just about perfect…

_Now._

Starscream squirms as another set of hands touch his thighs, stroking curiously. The pleasure-bot’s hands are smooth and silky, smaller than his own. They feel him up, and then the bot leans closer and a glossa suddenly licks around Devcon’s finger. The Seeker trembles as the bot licks his outer node, offering small, breathy cries as the bot mouths, and suckles his node hard and long. The pleasure-bot continues, then licks alongside Devcon’s finger, glossa becoming longer and harder, _breaching_. The Seeker cries out, mouth open in a surprised gasp, still clinging to Devcon’s arm. He doesn’t dare to move, lesson learnt. Devcon murmurs, kissing the exotic helm, rubbing his faceplates against Starscream’s audios. The glossa is slipery and smooth against his finger, joining him as they fuck his mate. 

If Starscream is aware of the silent communication between Devcon and the pleasure-bot, he doesn’t show it. Through the bond, Devcon senses all Starscream’s throbbing lust and his processor reels at the amount of trust his mate puts in him. He groans, spark filled with dark, possessive pride. As he presses closer still, Starscream manages to turn his helm and lick the hunter’s tinted faceplate, a sweet moan whispered against his audio. An approval if there ever was one, Devcon realises, and answers with a pleased purr. Suddenly, the drone’s hands move upwards, opening Starscream’s slender thighs, pinching and clawing as they grope their way higher up.

The Seeker’s moans are intoxicating, addictive, and the pleasure-bot’s glossa feels too good, specially as it rhythmically glides along his finger, suckling sensitive ridges, thick ridges. Devcon isn’t moving anymore, merely circling his hips, listening to the moans that spill from Starscream’s mouth. His mate clings to him, pushing back, panting loudly in the darkness. The thought returns; _It wasn’t supposed to be this good…_

Vents roaring, his frame covered in a shiny film of condensation, Starscream soon becomes undone. Within moments his pants become shrill moans, and he plants messy kisses along Devcon’s jawline, emitting desperate moans and high pitched yelps. It only makes the pleasure-bot work its glossa harder and deeper, pushing against every single node. The bot suddenly grabs the Seeker’s aft and kneads it, then steers his movements. Deliciously hard, he grinds the perky aft against the hunter’s spike, glossa pressing in and out of the stretched valve. Devcon’s darker vocals mix alongside Starscream’s, but the pleasure-bot doesn’t stop or falter the pace.

Within a nano-klik, Starscream jerks in Devcon’s grip and comes again, shouting desperately. He arches, wings tense, and tilts his hips, allowing the pleasure-bot to take him harder and faster while his processor reels from the pleasure. Devcon groans, the feedback hitting him square and all he can do is to suckle the strong neck. Riding his mate’s overload as he forces himself to hold his mate in a good, strong embrace, realising that the bot has studied them both, picking things up in the darkness. Devcon dominates his mate, but he will also do anything for him, and the Seeker is spoiled rotten. No secret there, none at all. 

Sensors on fire, the hunter sends another command. The pleasure-bot kisses the little valve one last time before moving away. More aggressive now, the sound of excited engines pull an answering rev from Devcon. The pleasure-bot moves closer, and a curved frame presses against the heated cockpit. The glossa, soft and wet with lubricant, leaves a trail on Starscream’s face. Still holding onto the Seeker, the bot angles the perky, aching aft and purrs. A long, thick spike suddenly glides against Devcon’s hand, and more importantly, against the stretched valve. He smirks in the darkness and removes his finger, then takes the pleasure-bot's spike in his hand and rubs it, feeling it up.

”It’s smooth”, he whispers in a wicked tone. ”It feels good, all heavy, just like the toy. Mmm, this is for you, mate, all for you. Thick, long, smooth, all silky… all yours for now.”

The pleasure-bot thrusts into his hand while balancing Starscream between them, mouth suckling a shoulder-pad. Devcon knows his mate, knows how his processor works, knows how he lusts for one thing above everything else; power. Power, however, comes in different shapes, and not always with brutal strength. In this little game, it’s Starscream who holds the power, and being spread between them, trapped by his mate, forced to take the whole length of Devcon’s spike, he trembles in excitement as two strong bots want _him_ more than anything else. As if to emphasise, the pleasure-bot’s hand finds his node and pulls the ring.

”Mmm… _oh_ , frag!” 

There’s that desperate pitch again, hungry and selfish, demanding more. The bot bites down on the Seeker’s shoulder, pulling another sweet gasp of him and stills. Devcon purrs and kisses the black helm, still trapping the Seeker to him, his other hand now fondling his mate’s aft. After a moment, he licks Starscream’s audio and pushes two fingers inside the valve, scissoring gently, stretching some more. The valve is hot and wet, sweetly sore, and as he pulls his fingers out, he offers it to the pleasure-bot with a wordless command. 

Starscream doesn’t even realise what’s happening before the drone’s spike is pushing inside, its smooth head stretching him beautifully. He yells loudly and writhes, helm moving from side to side, as if denying what’s happening. Devcon grabs his wrists before he hurts himself, and holds him trapped against his greater bulk, making small soothing sounds. The bot moves slowly, carefully, its spike more slender than Devcon’s, but thick enough to make it almost impossible for either of them to move. The hunter allows himself an intake, gritting his denta. The drone stills, giving both of them a few, precious moments to adjust. 

With utmost care, the hunter probes his mate’s processor and gasps, biting his lip until it bleeds. Starscream is barely aware of them – within him, there’s pain enough to break the strongest mech, and pleasure enough to drive him mad at that. His sensor-net is blazing, and what seems to be a current of raw, mindless bliss, courses through him. Devcon, sensing what his mate is going through, almost comes. He swallows hard. Such bliss... I would be too much for him, but Starscream is stronger, always was. He nuzzles the Seeker’s faceplate and gives a small, soft moan, asking for a kiss. The Seeker kisses him back, slowly and messily, encouraging him to move. 

Devcon strokes the Starscream’s shivering frame, drawing pleasure, not quite knowing where his own consciousness ends, or where Starscream’s begins. They are entwined again, sharing the sensations. A touch to his left shoulder, however, throws him out of their link, and Devcon lifts his face from the sweet kiss. The pleasure-bot touches him again and Devcon nods, opening the comm.link. They aren’t quite talking, not really, but information and feeds move back between them, and after a moment or two, the bot knows what to do. 

Spike buried to the hilt inside Starscream’s valve, the pleasure-bot soons copy Devcon, stroking, caresssing, calming the curvy frame between them. A kiss to Starscream’s jawline leads to a lick to pouty lips, asking for entrance. Starscream responds with a small sigh, arching into the kiss, trapped still, his wings held high. Within a klik, the kiss goes from soft and sweet, to hard and heated, and it helps the Seeker to relax even further. Devcon relaxes too, and turns his face toward a wing, kissing the delicate, sensitive plating. 

Starscream flicks the wing, pressing it against his glossa, and for a moment, Devcon forgets everything but the trembling wing and the way Starscream’s hips sway. He moves with him, slowly and soft, the hand holding the Seeker’s wrists still trapped between the bright cockpit and the pleasure-bot’s frame. Starscream and the bot are still kissing, but they are moving too, and the bot’s hands are holding onto his mate’s knees, keeping him open. It’s like the sweetest, most potent high-grade ever, and he takes it as an invitation to reach down between Starscream’s legs. Oh, but to feel how full his mate is, all stretched and open, yet so tight… 

He arches and pumps harder, fingers rubbing the little ring. Starscream tenses and wails into the kiss, snapping his hips desperately. The pleasure-bot thrusts harder, every movement pushing Starscream closer and closer to an overload that will surely knock him out. Devcon does the same, slamming into the Seeker, and holding onto the little ring, pulling as he moans, his breath coming hot and short. 

”Mine,” he whispers helplessly. ”You are mine, forever and ever, _mine_ …!”

The knot of lust has become a raging sea of pained pleasure, and Starscream is barely holding on. Devcon fares no better; the heat, the smug fit, the way Starscream feels and moves, the pitch of his moans – all of it, driving him insane. He can _feel_ how good it is, the bond is wide open, and the Seeker isn’t late to latch onto him that way, giving him a taste of the wild ecstasy they are forcing him to endure. Devcon sobs, pushing closer, fucking his mate hard enough to dent, his fingers still rubbing the little, precious outer node. His mate has never been more beautiful, has never felt as good, and now _he_ is the one begging desperately, caught in the middle of his mate’s sensations.

They are one, and they feel as one; the pleasure-bot’s mouth and glossa are attacking Starscream’s vents and cockpit, yet never forcing it to open and for the sake of all, Devcon hopes the bot remembers their deal. But, nothing of that kind happens, and before long, Starscream is howling, trying to get his hands free. The hunter releases them, moaning softly as Starscream reaches behind him and presses his helm closer, kissing him hard, vents whining, intakes broken. The pleasure-bot is there as well, the Seeker holding onto the bot's strong, well formed frame. Between them, undulating his hips, his aft snapping back and forth, Starscream comes violently, vocals glitching until they give out. 

What can’t be uttered through screams, however, gets another outlet as he arches and crushes both of them closer to his frame. The pleasure-bot groans, vocals far gentler than Devcon’s shouts. The hunter, however, can’t distance himself from his mate’s delicious, painful pleasure. He can’t stop moving either, not even as Starscream’s overload grows stronger, deeper and starts all over again. The gush of transfluid makes it easier to move, and since Devcon doesn’t stop, the pleasure-bot follows his example and goes on and on and on, changing the rhythm and the pace, until it's Devcon feels every single thrust through the bond. He can't stop, is unable to stop, and he can't slaggin' stop _coming_ -

”Oh, f-frag… Sweet P-Primus, nnnngh, p- _please-_!”

Starscream growls all the sudden, high on power and pleasure both, and now it’s Devcon who's taken by surprise. The Pleasure-bot moves away and so does Starscream, albeit gingerly, and in the darkness, Devcon finds himself pushed down. Lying on his back, Starscream straddles him, sinking over his spike with a hiss. Devcon’s hands find his spike, wet and hard, and strokes, moaning loudly. His mate groans, and then there’s a small whine. The hunter swallows a shout as Starscream’s valve becomes impossibly tight, clamping down on him. The pleasure-bot, he realises as Starscream rides him hard, is fucking the little port now, using his mate while his mate uses _him_.

”Open up,” Starscream snarls in between yelps and desperate moans. ”Please… Autobot, f-for frag’s sake, just-! I want it, give it to me, it’s mine!”

For a moment, Devcon is tempted to shake his helm, but who is he to deny Starscream anything? It doesn't matter that the hunter wouldn't share the sight of his spark with any other Cybertronian but Starscream. Their bond, no matter who owns who, is stays true, pure. He swallows, feeling the pull of Starscream's frantic need. 

Brilliant light spills from his chest-plate as Devcon gives in, revealing his spark-chamber and the blue core within. The light blinds him far more than the darkness has managed to, and Devcon shutters his optics, but not before getting a view of his mate. Starscream’s face is slack with pleasure, sharp with pain, hungry and needy. Claws kneading, cockpit heaving with each intake, his hips rocks hard, grind ruthlessly hard. Behind him, the pleasure-bot looks down at Devcon in awe. Devcon shutters his optics and allows Starscream to grab his hands and pin them above his helm. He wasn't quite expecting the cuffs, but at least they aren't stasis-cuffs, just regular ones. He moans, now restrained, as the Seeker whispers vulgar things, his vocals ruined with static. The pleasure-bot shifts at Starscream’s silent command, and starts fucking his mate slowly again, forcing him to bend closer to Devcon.

As he does, Starscream purrs and even optics shuttered, Devcon knows what to expect. He bites his lower lip, but the first touch to his spark is always processor-shattering, and this time is no exception. He jerks and arches, crying out as his hips snaps and his spike slides deep into his trembling mate. The glossa licking his spark knows him too well and now Devcon is the trapped one, writhing in pleasure. Starscream keeps feeding him with what he feels and the hunter knows it’s futile to resist. He can’t stop his own cries, can’t stop the way he moves – hard, selfishly, too fast, but his mate craves this, _demands_ it, and he doesn’t hold back.

In between delirious moans, his audios register the well-known sound his mate’s cockpit sliding open, but even as he looks up, Starscream is over him like a bird of prey. Contact made, their sparks merge and raw bliss consumes him, turning the world into nothing but furious heat and cruel ecstasy, and he can’t take more, he _can’t_ , and Starscream is howling too, the impact of their combined pleasure and the feedback slamming into him, and Primus save him, but he _can’t_ \---

*~*~*

It’s early when Devcon wakes up. 

The first thing he registers is the pleasant weight of his mate’s frame. Starscream stirs and snuggles closer, hiding his face hidden against the Devcon’s neck, his intakes soft and even. The hunter sighs softly and shifts, then shudders as he feels a slight strain to his spark. Why....? A moment later he realises that the strain isn’t to his spark, but to _their_ spark. Still linked, eh? He shifts and unshutter’s his optics, taking in several things at once; for starters, there’s a blanket covering them, keeping them warm. Secondly, the remains of the cuffs are still around his wrists and... 

And, he can _still_ feel the pleasure-bot’s signal. 

The hunter turns his helm to the side, his arms going around his mate’s sleeping form. Dim light spreads from the walls, the room somewhat lit. The pleasure-bot is sitting on the comfy-chair, the faint smell of his mate’s expensive cleaning gels all over the beautiful frame. He nods a greeting, feeling perfectly at ease in presence of a professional. He offers a wry grin. 

:: Congratulations. You knocked me into stasis. Not many bots can say the same, I’m afraid.::

The formidable femme snorts and stands up. Devcon notices marks on the sides of her helm and arms, courtesy of his mate. She looks at him and shakes her helm. ::It wasn’t me, hunter. It was your mate’s doing. And, such a mate... I’m quite honoured to have been allowed to touch him, but it’s time for me to go now.::

No further words are needed. 

Devcon watches the pleasure-bot leave, opening the doors for her, and closing them behind her as she leaves the building a few kliks later. He runs a quick check over their home, just to be sure. Alas, the bar is empty, the building locked, the lights dim. Everything is as it’s should to be, and all is well. 

_Good_. 

He turns to his mate again, stroking the strong back slowly, wincing at the thought of his brutal lovemaking. Later, he’ll spend a great deal of time making up for it. The shard will take care of the physical damage, but there are things not even the Allspark can mend and put right. Therefore, he’ll be busy spoiling Starscream, keeping him happy and sated, caressing him gently as he recovers from the emotional pain. He’ll bring the Seeker small gifts, encouraging the sweet bird to nest for as long as needed…

Devcon is no fool, he is perfectly aware of his own flaws. 

Being a bad mate _isn’t_ one of them, however. Besides, he’s pretty sure of one thing - he won’t be sharing his mate again. He sighs softly and leans his helm against Starscream, gently pushing against his firewalls, asking for entrance. Starscream, deep into recharge, accepts and pulls him along, sharing his inner sanctum with him. As always, there’s the sensation of flying, but this time, it’s not a recent flight that’s being processed, but very first dance they shared. He reaches for Starscream's left hand and touches the bracelet, his collar, tracing it lovingly. Within a few beats, the bittersweet memory and the soft hum of their shared spark lulls Devcon to sleep, and in the safety of their home, they become one once again.

And all is set right again.


End file.
